"I know what became of the pigeon pie that we thought
Rose ate up!"
"Eh? Mistress Lucy!" exclaimed Deborah, pausing in her ironing, full
of curiosity.
Lucy was delighted to detail the whole of what she had observed.
"Well!" cried Deborah, "if ever I heard tell the like! That slip of
a thing out in all the blackness of the night! I should be afraid of
my life of the ghosts and hobgoblins. Oh! I had rather be set up
for a mark for all the musketeers in the Parliament army, than set
one foot out of doors after dark!"
As Deborah spoke, Walter came into the hall. He saw that Lucy had
observed something, and was anxious every time she opened her lips.
This made him rough and sharp with her, and he instantly exclaimed,
"How now, Lucy, still gossipping?"
"You are so cross, I can't speak a word for you," said Lucy,
fretfully, walking out of the room, while Walter, in his usual
imperious way, began to shout for Diggory and his boots. "Diggory,
knave!"
"Anon, sir!" answered the dogged voice.
"Bring them, I say, you laggard!"
"Coming, sir, coming."
"Coming, are you, you snail?" cried Walter, impatiently. "Your heels
are tardier now than they were at Worcester!"
"A man can't do more nor he can do, sir," said Diggory, sullenly, as
he plodded into the hall.
"Answering again, lubber?" said Walter.
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